


Routine

by psychecas (orphan_account)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Bottom Castiel, CBT, Dom Dean, Dom/sub, Erotic Electrostimulation, Humiliation, M/M, Masochism, Medical Kink, Nasty Filthy Sin, Painplay, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape Roleplay, Roleplay, Sadism, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sounding, Sub Castiel, This Is A Den Of Sin, Top Dean, dubcon roleplay, heavy CBT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-09 02:49:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5522615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/psychecas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel has been asking about this for a while, and Dean's finally decided to indulge him. Of course, he's going to enjoy it just as much as Cas is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Routine

“What’s your safeword?” Dean asks, waiting to lock Castiel into place.

“Honeybee, sir, or three snaps” Castiel replies, his eyes wide and bright and trusting. Dean nods solemnly. With a _click_ , the metal shackles around Castiel’s wrists lock into place, leaving him exposed and helpless on the metal table. Ordering it had been Cas’s idea, of course, but now that they’re putting it into play Dean can’t help but mentally thank him. He takes a long moment to admire Cas, spread out and vulnerable, his lips bitten red and his hair sticking up in all directions, before turning away and exiting the room. He won’t leave Cas for too long, of course, but this is all part of the elaborate game they’d spent hours planning.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Novak,” Dean calls out as he reenters the room a few minutes later. “How’s your day been going?”

“Okay, sir, but can I ask—” Dean shakes his head in mock disappointment, glancing down at the clipboard he’d picked up and reading over the paper clipped to it briefly.

“Everything’s going to be fine, Castiel—can I call you Castiel?” Cas nods jerkily, his nostrils flaring and his eyes wide, darting around the room like he’s trying to find a way out.

“Sir, I don’t need to be restrained,” he promises weakly, wrists tugging at the cuffs connected to the metal table. “Please let me go, I swear I’ll cooperate!”

“Castiel, you know I can’t do that,” Dean says soothingly, reaching out and smoothing a hand over Castiel’s bare thigh. Cas flinches away, but he can’t get far, and soon Dean’s petting his thigh in an attempt to calm him down. “Look, this is all very standard routine for someone with your condition.”

“My _condition_?” Castiel replies, his voice going up an octave and his struggles renewed despite Dean’s grip on his leg. His eyes have a hint of panic in them now, which Dean frowns at.

“There’s no need to be alarmed,” he says evenly, but Castiel doesn’t seem to be listening. He thrashes against the metal, and Dean’s seriously concerned that he’s going to hurt himself. “Look, Castiel, everything’s going to be fine, once your treatment is over you can leave, but for now you _have_ to stay here.”

Castiel doesn’t listen. Dean can see imprints of red forming where the cuffs are digging into his wrists, and his legs are kicking out wildly. One of Castiel’s knees catches Dean in the side, and he’s forced to grab the boy’s ankles in a near-bruising grip. Castiel fights him, but once Dean brings the stirrups around and locks his ankles in place, he seems to realize that he’s not going anywhere, and his struggles subside.

“What’s—what’s going on?” Castiel whimpers, his eyes filling with tears as he goes limp on the table. He’s totally naked and exposed to Dean’s gaze, and instead of answering, Dean takes a long moment to appreciate the view. Cas squirms when he notices Dean’s eyes on him, but Dean notices the flush working its way down the boy’s neck, and the perk of his nipples in the cold white room.

“Castiel, we’ve been alerted to a serious medical condition of yours. It’s curable, but you need to work with me here, and you’re going to have to be completely honest.” Cas reluctantly nods his agreement as Dean pulls up a chair between those delightfully spread legs, his cart covered by a white sheet and just a foot or so away. Castiel eyes it apprehensively and seems embarrassed at the sight of Dean sitting between his thighs, his face a pretty red as Dean focuses his attention on the softness between the boy’s spread legs.

“Now, Castiel, when was the last time you touched your penis?” Cas’s face goes even redder, and he turns his head so that he’s looking away. Dean’s tempted to order him to watch, but reigns himself in when he sees a single tear slip down the side of Castiel’s face.

“Last week,” the boy murmurs quietly. Dean frowns and reaches for his gloves, the latex snapping on quick and easy as he reaches for Castiel’s tiny, soft penis. It’s hardly the length of his index finger, even soft, making Castiel look juvenile and pretty. The lack of hair on any part of the boy’s body but his head doesn’t do much to help either.

“Have you ever measured yourself?” Dean asks, keeping his tone cool and disinterested as he idly toys with Cas’s cock, flicking the head playfully when Cas takes to long to answer, and relishing in the pained gasp it earns him.

“N–no, sir.”

“Hm.” Instead of probing further, Dean reaches to his still-covered cart and pulls out a ruler from underneath the sheet. The flush on Castiel’s cheeks is surely working down his neck and across his chest as Dean straightens out his penis and holds it against the ruler. He chuckles for a moment when he sees the results, and Castiel squirms again. “Well, Castiel, it looks like you’re a little over three inches long.”

Dean jots it down while Castiel squirms, his cock still persistently flaccid despite Dean’s manhandling. He strokes it softly, marveling at the fact that he can fit the whole thing into his palm, while he hears Cas sniffling above him. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“It’s all perfectly routine,” Dean says blandly even as his hand reaches down to cup Castiel’s small balls, rolling them between his fingers.

“Routine for _what_?” He pleads, trying—and failing—to move away from Dean’s probing, latex-covered fingers. Dean _tsks_ at him, but withdraws his hand and braces himself against his own thighs.

“Castiel, this is all for your own good. I’m trying to help you.”

“ _How_?” Castiel cries, another tear slipping down his cheek. He’s finally looking at Dean now, but as soon as they make eye contact, he jerks his head back against the metal, making himself wince. Dean sighs heavily, glancing sideways at his cart and wondering if he’ll have to use some of his toys sooner than expected. He’ll certainly have to get the gag out if Castiel keeps acting like this. 

Instead of answering, Dean stands up and moves over in front of the rolling cart, tugging the sheet away until everything on it is exposed to Castiel’s view. When he sees the glinting instruments and toys laid out, Cas’s eyes widen and he thrashes, trying desperately to tug against the cuffs and stirrups and serving only to give himself more bruises. Dean doesn’t want to leave any lasting marks, but these are all Castiel’s own fault. He replaces his latex gloves and thinks for a moment before grabbing the lube and one of the long, thin sounds, then settles back in his chair.

“It doesn’t look like we’ll be needing it this long,” he teases, “but better safe than sorry, right?”

It’s hard to get a good grip when Castiel keeps thrashing around, but one sharp flick to his balls has Castiel settling down, whimpers ripped from his throat as he looks down his own body in fear. Dean starts to slick up the sound first, before leaning over to the cart and filling a syringe with lube. The whimpers turn into chants of _no_ by the time Dean has the syringe positioned at Castiel’s slit, but nothing stops him from pressing down the plunger and filling Castiel’s dick with the slippery substance. A sharp gasp comes from the boy’s mouth, and Dean has to hold his hips down with one arm to keep him from bucking up in alarm.

“Now, this might feel uncomfortable at first,” Dean warns as he rolls the sound between his gloved palms to try and warm it up, “but you need to be completely still for me. Can you do that, Castiel?”

“I…Will it hurt?” Castiel asks tentatively, his voice thick and his fingers clenching around nothing. His head is still turned to the side, and his eyes are closed now, as if he can will away what’s happening to him. Dean smiles and grips the boy’s soft cock, holding it upright and watching as a small trickle of lube leaks out of the tip. Castiel makes the most _delicious_ noise when Dean positions the tip of the sound against his cock, some kind of whimper that’s caught in his throat before it even makes it out.

“Good boy,” Dean murmurs as he starts to fuck the sound into Cas’s cock in little, tiny increments. Castiel sobs, tears flowing freely now along with his little, involuntary noises of discomfort as the sound reaches the base of his cock. Dean hums as he draws the sound out until the tip is resting in Castiel’s slit again, then he fucks it back in and watches as Cas squirms.

‘Why are you doing this?” Cas asks again in barely more than a whisper. Dean smiles sympathetically up at him.

“You need this, Castiel.” He shakes his head against the metal, as if in denial, but when Dean starts to fuck the sound in and out of him smoothly, a moan is ripped from Cas’s throat as if he can’t help it.

“I _don’t_ ,” he protests. Dean shakes his head, though he knows Castiel isn’t looking, and lets the sound settle inside the boy’s cock as he reaches for the lube and for a thick metal plug lying on his cart.

Castiel flinches when one of Dean’s slick fingers starts probing at his ignored hole. His eyes fly open again, and he opens his mouth, evidently about to say something until Dean slaps his thigh, hard. “I’ll have to gag you if you keep being so ungrateful, Castiel.”

“No,” Castiel whispers, and Dean takes that as his cue to push his finger deep into Castiel’s hole, feeling the boy’s channel part for him as if he was _made_ to take cock.

“Your pussy’s begging me for it,” Dean marvels as he slips in a second finger. Cas makes this sinful choking sound when Dean says that, but his ass clenches down tight enough to make Dean pause his motions for a moment. A slight crook of those two fingers has Castiel practically dancing in the stirrups, his whole body jerking as if it can’t decide whether it wants _more_ or _less_. Dean doesn’t give him a choice.

“This is why you’re here, sweetheart.” He talks like he’s soothing a frightened animal, and in a way he is. Cas whimpers, but stills when Dean tugs warningly at the sound still embedded in his slowly-hardening cock. It’s tiny, even when it’s trying to rise, and Dean can’t help but say something about it. “See, even your pathetic little dick knows it. You’re just a hole, Castiel, and I’m trying to help you realize it.”

“Stop,” the boy pleads, and Dean sighs. Reluctantly, he withdraws his fingers, and Castiel sighs in relief. It’s quickly refuted when Dean slides in the metal plug, barely larger than his fingers but just enough to burn, and then grabs the rubber ball gag from the cart, fisting one lube-slick, latex covered hand into Castiel’s hair and forcing the gag between his teeth. Castiel looks up at him as he struggles, a wounded look in his eye. Dean frowns down disapprovingly and fastens it tight around his head.

“Can you calm down and be good for me, Castiel?” Dean asks. Cas trembles as he steps away, his eyes bright and leaking. Dean wants to lick the tears off his cheeks.Instead, he waits for Castiel’s shaky nod before turning back to the cart. There’s a few things he’s probably not going to get to today, a few that are on the cart for shock value that he’d never _dream_ of using on his boy, and a few that beacon to him so invitingly that Dean can’t resist.

He grabs the control with two long wires wrapped around it, and another sound. Castiel’s head is turned away now, so he doesn’t see it coming when Dean sticks the transmitters to his nipples, still peaked in the cold air. He jerks a little, voice muffled by the gag, but the boy seems to understand that he’s not getting away from this. Dean smiles and pats his cheek approvingly, feeling the streaks of dried tears and refraining from dragging his thumb under Cas’s eyes and licking up the tears.

When the sound comes out, Castiel groans. The thin rod is discarded, but is quickly replaced by the new one, which has a wire protruding out the end, which is connected to the other controller in Dean’s hand. He reaches for the almost-forgotten plug next to him and slicks it up, pressing it gently into Castiel’s slick hole. Dean doesn’t want to cause him any permanent damage, after all. Cas doesn’t even fight it, which is a marked improvement, and Dean presses it tight against his prostate as a reward.

“Now, this might…sting, a bit,” Dean warns, fiddling with the dials of the controllers. Castiel’s eyes widen and dart around, down to the wires from the electrodes taped to his nipples, to the one inside his small cock. He seems to understand what they’re for, and immediately throws himself against the cuffs, the stirrups rattling as he heaves against them. Dean just watches, until he can see a small rivulet of blood seep from under one of the wrist cuffs. He gently but firmly pushes Castiel back against the chair, and can see the exact moment when the boy gives up, letting his head knock back against the metal table and his limbs go loose and pliant.

“See, sweetheart? This doesn’t have to be hard. Just relax and let me take care of you. Remember, Castiel, this is for your own good.” Castiel whimpers behind the gag, but he gives a shaky nod that lets Dean know that he can settle back into his chair. Picking up the remotes again, he debates which one he wants to turn on first.

In the end, Dean shifts the larger remote in his hand and presses the _up_ arrow. The effect it has is immediate and satisfying: Castiel convulses on the table, his back arching as he lets out a muffled shriek into the gag, trying his hardest to get _away_ from the twin points of electricity against his nipples.

When Dean turns it off, he watches silently as Cas heaves and sobs, tears flowing freely now. He looks at Dean with a betrayed expression while his body twitches through the aftershocks of the voltage. Dean groans softly as he watches, resisting the urge to rub his own cock through the fabric of his pants. 

Castiel is still gasping and shaking when Dean turns on the voltage to the sound. This time, he doesn’t stop himself from openly palming his own cock, because Castiel _shrieks._ It doesn’t end, too, going on and on until his voice breaks and the boy is reduced to broken gasps and groans, the prettiest noises Dean’s ever heard. Cas is rock hard, too, the sound sticking up straight from his stiff little prick. Dean watches as his legs spread wider and wider in the stirrups, and his hips start to buck up against the strap holding them down. Castiel’s eyes are rolled back, his head jerking against the metal, and only when Dean hears a loud enough _thump_ does he turn the voltage off.

Castiel’s screams putter out with the voltage, receding into high, wounded whimpers as he spasms, his nails cutting bloody crescents into his palms. Dean absently rubs at his own thigh, leaning forward to brush the damp hair back from Castiel’s forehead. The boy leans into his touch almost unconsciously, eyes shut tight. Dean sighs and looks at him gently, weighing his options. He knows that Cas can take more than this, but he doesn’t want to frighten him off so soon, so he might have to tone it down a little.

When he unstraps the gag, Castiel moans, long and low. His lips are chapped and cracked, bloody in some spots, and Dean smirks when he sees teeth marks bored into the red rubber. Castiel’s eyes flutter open slowly, and he blinks hard when he sees Dean, who’s come to stand above him. Dean smiles reassuringly and pets the boy’s hair again.

“Please stop,” Castiel moans, his voice wrecked and weak and broken.

“You need this,” Dean repeats. He gets a weak head shake in response, and dutifully ignores it.

Cas damn near weeps when the electrodes come off his nipples. His whole body is shaking, but the tremors subside slightly when the tape is off and the controller is safely back on the cart, wires wrapped around it. Dean eases the sound out gently, watching as Cas’s urethra flexes when the rounded tip eases out of his slit. Castiel moans again in gratitude, his hard little cock standing stiff against his abdomen. Dean smiles fondly at it and gives it a little smack with his gloved hand, watching as Castiel twitches in pain. He doesn’t cry out this time, the good boy, and Dean decides to give him a little reward for that. His hand migrates south, towards the base of the metal plug still buried in Cas’s hole.

He fucks the plug in and out slightly, just enough that the bulbed end brushes against Cas’s prostate, and waits for the boy to start squirming, still half-dazed from the shock but eagerly accepting the respite of pleasure. Dean’s so proud of him already; he’s learning. When Dean ceases the movement and leaves the plug settled in comfortably against his prostate, Cas frowns slightly and bucks his hips. Dean’s tempted to punish him for the movement, but that’s not the point of this exercise.

“What do you want?” Dean asks. Castiel looks at him, his brow furrowing, trying to decipher any hidden meaning. Dean just looks back, his gaze open and honest. He sees Castiel open his mouth, slightly, then shut it. Good. He’s conflicted—pleasure and pain warring for control of what he’s going to say next. Finally, he opens his mouth again and averts his gaze.

“I want to go home.”

Wrong answer.

Dean doesn’t reply, turning back to the cart and hearing the sharp intake of breath behind him. He looks down at the array of implements waiting for him, his eye drawn to one in particular—one he hadn’t even planned on using. But he grabs the wand anyway, and the metal cock cage.

He doesn’t give Castiel time to prepare for the shock, just switches the violet wand on and taps it lightly against his thigh. Castiel shouts, high and sharp, almost a yelp. The wand, which is not unlike a cattle prod, shocks him again, this time just above his hip. This time, the boy gasps and jolts, staring Dean with those brimming blue eyes, practically _inviting_ him to lick up the slowly-falling tears.

“Please,” he whimpers. Dean glares at him coldly.

“You need to learn, Castiel,” he says, each word punctuated with a tap of the wand, on Castiel’s hips or thighs or abdomen. He’s practically dancing on the table, cuffs holding him in place just enough to stop him from hurting himself. Dean’s already hurting him enough for the both of them. “You don’t get to make choices, now. That’s not what you’re _for_. You’re just a hole, something to be used.”

When Castiel doesn’t respond, Dean shrugs, then turns his attention to the boy’s prick, still half-hard despite the pain. Dean simpers down at Castiel, before gently brushing the wand over the head of his cock. The reaction that gets is immediate and extreme: Castiel shrieks, his head slamming back against the metal and his voice unhindered by a gag. Dean taps a line down his softening cock, each touch not more than a half-second long, though plenty long enough to hurt. By the third tap, Castiel is begging him to stop, promising to be a good boy if only Dean will make it _stop._

“You’re going to be good?” Dean asks softly, laying the wand down. The boy nods desperately, his chest heaving with sobs and his face glistening with tears. Dean reaches out and brushes them away, watching as Cas’s eyes well up again at the gentle touch. He smiles softly and kisses his forehead, toying with the metal cage still in his other hand. Castiel needs to learn.

He doesn’t seem to understand what the cage is, when Dean first locks it around his soft, tiny cock. The cage is a perfect fit, the steel encasing Cas’s cock completely and matching nicely with the silver base of the plug still in his hole. Dean lets his gloved fingers linger over the metal, watching as Castiel works it through in his head, too exhausted to do anything but lie limp on the table, unable to put up a fight. Dean likes him like this, he decides.

“Good boy,” he praises, stripping off his gloves. Castiel closes his eyes and nods, his lower lip trembling. Dean presses his fingers to it, feeling the blood under his hand from where the skin’s bitten through. “See, this doesn’t have to hurt. Now, I’m going to ask you one more time: what do you want?”

“I don’t know,” Castiel whispers, turning his face away. Dean grips his chin lightly and turns it back toward him, waiting until Castiel opens his eyes and meets his gaze.

“That’s okay,” he promises. “Everything is going to be okay.”

Castiel trembles in the cold of the room, and another tear slips down his cheek. This time, Dean licks it up, unable to stop himself. Cas doesn’t flinch away, though, doesn’t pull back. Dean kisses his forehead again, then pulls away. He drapes the sheet back over his cart, then wheels it to the door, turning the key in the lock.

“Goodnight, Mr. Novak,” he calls as he steps out the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The door closes, the light switches off, and Castiel is left alone.

Three minutes later, after Dean’s jerked off in the bathroom, grabbed a bottle of water, some juice, and a hot water bottle, and placed them on the side of the bed, the door to the playroom opens again. The lights flick on and Castiel sobs, instantly straining against his bonds. Dean rushes over and hastily releases him, catching Cas when he starts to fall to the floor, muscles too weak to support him.

“Hey, hey,” he murmurs. Castiel doesn’t respond, instead wrapping his arms around Dean’s neck and burying his face in his shoulder. “I’ve got you, Cas. I’ve got you.”

They slowly make their way into the bedroom, Castiel shaking the whole way and half-carried by Dean. He sits Cas down on the edge of the bed and reaches for the water bottle and the first aid kit. 

“Drink,” he instructs, waiting until Cas has swallowed a bit before reaching for the bandages. Castiel’s wrists are chafed and bloody and Dean cleans them as thoroughly as he can before wrapping them up, pressing a kiss to each bandage as he finishes. Cas smiles down weakly at him, his face tear-stained and blotchy.

“I’m so proud of you,” Dean says from his place kneeling on the ground, their fingers intertwined. Castiel nods down at him, his fingers gripping so tightly it starts to hurt. “You did so well, and I’m so proud of you, and I love you _so_ much, Castiel.”

“I love you too,” Cas whispers, the first words he’s spoken. His voice is ruined, rough and barely-there. “I love you.”

“I know,” Dean reassures him. He climbs up onto the bed, offering the soft clothes laid out for Cas towards him, watching as Castiel slips on the too-big shirt from Dean’s youth and discards the pants. “Do you want to take that off?”

Castiel glances down at the metal tube around his cock, smiling dazedly. He shakes his head, and his fingers wander down underneath, to the base of the plug still inside him. “No.”

“You’ll be okay?” Dean asks, just because he has to. He _has_ to make sure that Cas is going to be okay tonight. Cas nods again, turning slightly and lying down, waiting for Dean to slip on his pajamas and join him. Dean does, sliding underneath the covers and cradling his boy in his arms, whispering soft nothings as Castiel sips the juice and picks at the grapes and crackers and cheese Dean had brought out.

“Do you need anything from me?” Castiel stills in his arms, a grape halfway to his mouth. Suddenly, he burrows back into Dean, the bare skin of his thighs brushing against the flannel of Dean’s pants.

“Stay,” he whispers, his head turning. Castiel looks at Dean, eyes wide and pleading, and even if Dean had wanted to say _no_ in the first place, he couldn’t have.

“Of course,” he replies, and leans over to kiss Cas on the forehead. As long as Cas will let him, he’ll stay.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to check me out on tumbr at http://psychecas.tumblr.com
> 
> Also: **The use of electrostimulation in this fic is unsafe and should not be attempted outside of fictional works; any electricity in the upper body/chest regions can lead to cardiac arrest and death, I merely took some liberties for the sake of kink. Before exploring e-stim or any other kind of potentially dangerous sexual activity, please do research and make sure that you know all the risks!!**


End file.
